The Meum and Tuum was a favourite of Posh’s and he tried to buy her for himself.

But although she had only cost £360 to build in 1867, in 1874 she fetched over £300, and Posh could not go so high as that. So he made other arrangements, and his fishing interests with FitzGerald were finally ended.

One would have thought that there would be no more letters beginning “Dear Posh.” But though FitzGerald had found himself obliged to end his association with Posh in the herring fishing, he never ended his friendship, even if, during the last years of his life, he neither saw nor wrote to his former partner.

The Meum and Tuum made several more voyages in the North Sea and to the west, and, when she was no longer strictly seaworthy, was sold to a Mr. Crisp, of Beccles, a maltster and general provision merchant, who turned her into a storeship, and anchored her off his wharf in the river Waveney. When she became so rotten as to be unfit even for a storage ship she was

broken up, and her name-board was bought by Captain Kerrich, of Geldeston Hall (the son of FitzGerald’s favourite sister), who was kind enough to present it to the Omar Khayyám Club. But as the club has no “local habitation”—only a name—it now remains in the charge of Mr. Frederic Hudson, one of the founders of the club.

CHAPTER XVIII
UNTO THIS LAST

Posh does not remember the last occasion on which he spoke to his old “guv’nor,” but he says that whenever he did see him he, FitzGerald, would take him by the blue woollen jersey and pinch him, and say, “Oh dear, oh dear, Posh! To think it should ha’ come to this.” Well, this may possibly have been the case. There is no doubt that FitzGerald resumed friendly relations with the fisherman, for on August 29th, 1875, he wrote from Woodbridge to his former partner:—

“Woodbridge, August 29.

“Dear Posh,

“I have posted you a Lowestoft Paper telling you something of the Regatta there. But as you say you like to hear from me also, I write to supply what the Paper does not tell: though I wonder you can care to hear of such things in the midst of your Fishing.

“I, and every one else, made sure that the little Sapphire would do well when it came on to blow on Thursday: she went to her moorings as none of the others did except the Red Rover. But, directly the Gun fired, the Otter (an awkward thing) drove down upon, and broke up her Chain-plates, or stenctions [sic], to which the wire rigging holds: so she could not sail at all: and the Red Rover got the Prize, after going only two rounds instead of three: which is odd work, I think. Major Leathes’ mast went over in the first round, as it did a year ago. At Evening, the Otter grounded as she lay by the South Pier: and would have knocked her bottom out had not Ablett Pasifull gone off to her and made them hoist their main-sail.

“Ablett and Jack got more and more uncomfortable with their new Owner, who is a Fool as well as a Screw. At last Ablett told him that he himself and Jack had almost been on the point of leaving him, and that, I think, will bring him to his senses, if anything can.

“On Friday we saw Mushell coming in deeply laden, and we heard how he had just missed putting three lasts on board of you. I sent off a Telegram to you that same evening, as Mushell knew you would be anxious to know that he had come in safe through the wind and Sea of Thursday night. He was to have started away again on Sunday: but one of his men who had gone home had not returned by one o’clock, when I came away. This, I always say, is one of the Dangers of coming home, but, as Things were, Mushell could scarce help it, though he had better have gone to Yarmouth to sell his Fish. He seems a good Fellow.

“All these mishaps—I wonder any man can carry on the trade! I think I would rather be in my own little Punt again. But, while you will go on, you know I will stand by you. Your mare is well, and the sore on her Shoulder nearly gone. Mr. and Mrs. Howe send their Regards. Cowell is gone off to Devonshire instead of coming to meet me at Lowestoft: but I dare say I shall run over there again before long.

“Yours always,
“E. FG.”

The “little Sapphire” I cannot identify. One gentleman has been kind enough to try to help me, and thinks that she was the Scandal. But this cannot be so, for the Scandal was built for FitzGerald at Wyvenhoe in 1863, was first called the Shamrock and then the Scandal. Personally, I remember the names of a good many of the yachts of the Norfolk and Suffolk coast of the period, but I can’t identify the Sapphire. The Red Rover was a river craft, a cutter, with the one big jib of our river craft